The War WIthin
by Corey Black
Summary: Corey Black returns in a post Clone Wars setting, and he's having trouble adjusting to life away from war. Lending his relatively vast array of skills to his work as a bounty hunter, he takes jobs he feels are right, holding true to his principles, and attempting to be honourable in all his dealings. Will he succeed? Or will this way of life under Palpatine's new regime break him?
1. Prologue

I stood at the heart of it all, battle scarred armour thrown into relief by the fires that this battle had caused. In this time of darkness, there was no outward black and white, no visible difference between dark and light, simply shades of grey. The only black and white on show here was Stormtrooper armour, cast aside like the shells of dead crustaceans, which had once, in fact, been men.

I didn't enjoy killing, not when it was like this, the level of training that these flash taught, Spaarti grown clones were little better than droids at this level, and the small band of Mandalorians I had by my side were more than a match for them.

Seventy armed and armoured men and women entered that loading bay, and only the six of us remained. It was, I mused, all in a day's work. Not the most pleasant of days though, particularly not since this was supposed to have been a simple drop. Escort a "businessman" to Phelarion for Prince Xizor, ensure that the transaction went smoothly, and return him to the Prince, back on Coruscant, with the goods intact. The Muun was hiding between a pair of cargo containers, whimpering. I found my lip curling, beneath the impenetrable T slit of my helmet's visor, as I made a disparaging gesture to one of the other Mandalorians present. It was so very tempting to lift one of those crates with the Force, and just let it slip from my grasp, but I did not.

"Muun!" I barked, my tone that of firm command, "We're leaving, now!"

Switching to internal comms, I motioned two of my comrades: "Atin, A'den, make sure the ship is secure. Ijaat, Soli, make sure our perimeter is clear. I don't want this job going wrong, any more than it already has. Dom, come with me, we're on babysitting duty. Things never seem to go right when I get a job from Xizor, but I'm determined to make the best of this one. We're going home as a team, or not at all. Get to it, _vode!" _

Dom and I made it over to the Muun, who was barely on his feet by this point, and half dragged him along, him clutching to the remarkably small, but apparently extremely valuable item that Xizor had sent us here for.

"Galaar_ is secure, _ner vod." A voice crackled through my helmet's headset.

"Copy that." Came the swift reply. "Okay _vode, _let's move out!"

As we made our way towards the ship, I kept my eyes on the HUD's three-hundred-and-sixty degree field of view, half expecting the threat indicators to light up with targets, but none appeared. Doing things like this almost made me miss the war. Fighting beside the Fett clones, Commandos, ARC Troopers, and White Jobs alike, I knew who the enemy was, and I could point and shoot, knowing that almost every squeeze of the firing stud would lessen the chance of my brothers being hit, even if only by a tiny margin.

Today though, my enemies were everywhere, and the people who sent me out might as well have been the worst of them, not caring whether or not we came home. I didn't care what this new regime said about the Jedi, from those who I'd encountered, I could say without a shadow of a doubt, that they cared. Blind fools they may have been, but they cared.

_I gripped the wrist of an older Mandalorian, as he did mine, and I looked him square in the eyes, telling him "I'll take care of them as though they were my own flesh and blood. You have my word. _Haat, ijaa, haa'it."

I never swore any oath to the Republic, and certainly not the Empire, but I swore to protect the troops I served with, and I lost far too many, but I did everything I could, so they said. Some comfort that was.

_Compared to this life though, war was a cakewalk._


	2. Chapter 1

**Heavily Modified CEC YG-4210 _Galaar_ in hyperspace – Exact coordinates unkown.**

The trip from Phelarion back to Triple Zero was one of the easiest runs I'd done in what felt like a long time. A dataspike into the slot in _Galaar's_ pilot console and we were just another commercial freighter, heading back to the depot from some supply drop or other. There was nothing in the fake signals that tied us to this mission, the dead troopers, or home.

Talk of what was next was rife among my team mates as I sat there in the pilot's chair, scanning the ship to ensure that nothing was in need of repair, but more importantly to make sure that there hadn't been any _additions_ made, be they of the explosive or tracking variety. Once I was satisfied that the ship was clean, I set the link between my gauntlet datapad and the ship so that I would be alerted when we were sixty seconds from realspace reversion.

"A good night's sleep for me!" I chuckled. "I remember those." Laughter followed me as I made my way from the cockpit to the 'freshers in my quarters, where I removed my armour and just soaked under the steaming heat, letting the heat take the tension out of tired muscles. It was almost a ritual, to the point that it was done when it could be, half the battles I'd been had been transferred from muck, to more muck, sleeping in the cargo bay of a Larty, or whatever transport was made available to us at the time.

Once I was done, I began replacing my flight suit, able to hear the chatter out in the crew area but not quite able to make out the words. Hearing footsteps shuffling outside the door, I lifted one of my DC-15 sidearm pistols from its holster, still hanging on a hook by the door and raised it, finger tightening on the firing stud until the doors parted and the Muun was there, his hand mere inches from the chime.

I lowered the pistol quickly and wondered at his frozen form, if all of his species were born cowards, but I refrained from asking.

"What can I do for you, Master Tilusk?" I asked him, the picture of a gracious host.

"I – I was wondering if I could maybe have something to eat?" He asked, unable to look at me.

I nodded, but he remained rooted to the spot, as if the gravity generator was on the blink. Again. "Is there something wrong?"

"No. Well yes. I'll be frank, you looked less frightening with the armour on." He muttered, gesturing at my torso and arms. "You look like you've been through the wars."

I laughed. "Yeah, I have. You remember that big, galaxy spanning grab for power that your Emperor engineered? Took us all for a ride." My tone stated clearly that it wasn't a subject for discussion.

Shaking my head, I sent him towards the crew area, redressed and joined the rest there. Ale flowed amongst the crew, but I wouldn't have any until the job was done and my hands were washed of the accountant.

The alarm on my forearm took me away from the conversation, returning my _buy'ce_ to my head, I made sure I was ready in the cockpit as we came out, practically on top of a lumbering cargo vessel, maybe five times the size of the vessel we flew.

"Hold on!" I yelled out, kicking the vessel into a roll, and snapping upwards away from the other ship, the hulls passing within meters of each other. The manoeuvre nearly took me out of my seat, so I could just imagine what'd happened down below, the string of curses that flooded up through from the crew deck would've made a Corellian dockhand blush, and the ones that left my own mouth were in three different languages, the situation meeting with far less than my usual amount of calm, a familiar flash of cold appeared in my stomach as my body prepared itself to fight.

_Not that that can happen here, so close to the Empire's most defended location. Vengeance can wait. _

Slowly, the crew appeared in the cockpit grumbling. "If you'd wanted me on my back, Sarge, you could've just asked." A comment which earned A'den a playful slap from both of the women present.

"I'm supposed to be the funny one here." Ka'ra chuckled.

The smirk on my face lasted for about a second, before I was right back to business. "Okay _vode,_ stations please. Ka'ra, you go and check on our guest. Comm through if there's anything out of place. Soli, I need a link with that vessel."

Soli nodded once in my direction, and my voice crackled through into the speakers of the other ship. She indicated the display next to the navigation console, showing that the navigation beacon showed it as being registered with Xizor Transport Systems. I grimaced.  
"What the hell do you think you're doing, parking right on our exit route, _di'kut?_" My voice was calm, but the level of ice it sent their way could've frozen a star destroyer.

_"Prince Xizor sends his regards. Who the hell do you think _you _are, speaking to me in that manner, Mandalorian?" _

"I'd like to know who you are, so that I can make a decision on that point. Perhaps the Prince would be happy to know that some _shabuir_ who was too full of his own self importance was one quick pilot's reflexive roll away from having destroyed his merchandise?"

Those words had the intended effect, and the man's attitude changed audibly.  
_"We're uh, here to escort you in."_ He muttered. _"We've got your registry showing as being our protection on a long haul flight." _

"Very well, lead the way." I returned. The guy was beginning to get on my nerves, so with a single gesture, I cut the comm channel.

A chuckle from A'den and the muttered words of "I don't know why we don't just shoot the guy" came from Atin, the first sound from him since we'd entered the cockpit once more.

As the clearance codes were transmitted to the shield controller, we swooped in behind the bulky cargo vessel, and began the descent into the atmosphere of the newly renamed Imperial Center.

_Coruscant, Corrie, trip zip, triple zero or anything else, but it'll never be Imperial Center in my mind, not after what we did to _keep _it Coruscant. _

"And that would be because we can't afford to get on Xizor's bad side." My attention returned to the space that my body was occupying, and I spoke without much conscious direction to my words, though they were all true. "Also because in spite of Xizor being the sort who would likely thank us for removing the _di'kut_ from his ranks, he would take payment for the destroyed ship out of our net earnings. And that doesn't make for good times for us."

Heading across the industrial district, we flew for the landing strip that held the vessels for Xizor's legitimate business interests, along with the a few vessels that were less than legally equipped. They -like this one- would only be passing through. It wouldn't do to have Xizor's affiliation with the notorious Black Sun revealed, after all.

"What kind of narcissist renames an entire planet after themselves?" A'den pondered aloud, leading me to wonder if he had been born with the ability to read minds.

"I don't know, but I suppose that Imperial Center sounds better than Planet Palpatine." Came the reply from the back of the cockpit.

_"The Muun is still in one piece, everything you requested is in readiness. _Cor'ika."

I nodded at the second part, Ka'ra's voice coming through my helmet's speakers, rather than through the usual outside audio receptors, transmitted through a private frequency.

A thought struck me as we landed. "Hey guys, how about you take the ship and resupply. We could use the stuff, and I have a list for some of the _vode_ back home. The Core Comestible Warehouse isn't far, and I'd rather that _Galaar_ wasn't left here, where any _aruetiise_ can get their filthy appendages on her."

A'den protested, as he often did, at the idea of me heading into an unknown situation alone. "You could use the backup, you stubborn _di'kut!_ You're going to get yourself killed one of these days."

"Yeah, one day." I chuckled. "But not today, _ner vod._ Don't worry yourself too much. You might break something."

"Alright Sarge," he muttered. "You always get the fun jobs."

I just shook my head at that, a bark of laughter escaping from my lips, a show of good humour which covered up the distaste I felt for every moment I spend in the presence of the Falleen Prince.

One gloved hand rested briefly on Soli's cheek, and I gave her a nod, the moment of affection disappearing almost as quickly as it had appeared. "Ship is yours _Sol'ika,_ make sure everyone behaves themselves."

The last comment was accompanied by a dig into A'den's armoured stomach, to which I received a playful blow to the back of the head.

"Master Tilusk. We're leaving. _Shebs_ in high gear if you please, your employers aren't a patient sort, and I'm not in the mood."

I reached instinctively for my DC17-m, left in place for an exit such as this one, but I thought better of it. The weapon had now been outlawed by the Empire, and no doubt they'd be on the lookout for anyone using anything proscribed here in their own capital. The pistols would have to do. I checked their charge levels and lowered the boarding ramp, ushering the Muun ahead of me. Making a show of checking the vibroblades mounted in my gauntlets, ejecting and retracting them with a rather satisfying _Shunnk!_  
I climbed into the waiting airspeeder and we headed on our way towards the waiting prince, the pilot noticed the ship taking heading into the skylanes near us and questioned where the rest of the team were headed.

"Shopping." I growled, not really wanting conversation. "You know, we don't just eat by hitting creatures over the head and cooking them." I cocked my head and focussed my darkened, helmeted gaze on his reflection in the rear-view, knowing the effect it would have on him, and continued. "Unless they _really_ irritate us."

**_Galaar_ - Coruscant skylanes**

Back on the ship, there was a lot of discussion as to what supplies were necessary, everyone had a differing opinion, though eventually the consensus was that anything that couldn't be easily obtained on Mandalore, along with the list of goods that they'd been provided with.

"We should be going with him, or at least tailing them to make sure nothing happens."  
Aden's griping finally got a response from Atin, who glared at him from across the table.

"I get that you don't like feeling like the hydrospanner at the bottom of the bag, _vod,_ but shut your big mouth about it. If he'd needed us, he'd have said something. A cowardly Muun, and the pair in the front seats won't be any hassle. He's a commando. Remember how he was back there. I'll let you in on a secret, _vod._ That _scared me._ No wonder Traviss and the others came back to Mandalore with him at the end of the war."

"I didn't believe some of the things that they'd said, until I saw him fight today." Dom interjected. "I'm still not sure about the part about him deflecting blaster shots like a _Jetii,_ since I didn't see him do any of that, but I was impressed. But here's an idea, let's focus on the shopping before the ladies get too much of an idea that we don't care about how they spend the credits."

The three men present chuckled at the shouts from the cockpit, as Soli and Ka'ra both yelled something better left unsaid in polite company. The situation had been diffused, the older man having read the tension between the pair at the table and distracting them effectively, leaving them to air their grievances at a time when it wasn't going to get in the way of the mission itself.

Shopping went as smoothly as can be expected, with minimal getting lost, even though the store was effectively bigger than Keldabe. It was a novel use for the helmet systems of each member present, using them to find their way around a shop.

**Xizor's Palace, Coruscant. **

I was led by the driver and his Rodian co-pilot through the palace hallways, and I scanned the route in using the sensor suite in my helmet, as shown on its Heads Up Display, or HUD. They seemed to take me on a different route every time, probably in an effort to disorient me but I simply followed each time, giving no outward indication of my emotional state.

As we left the turbolift that would bring us to the prince's meeting chamber, a guard stopped us, with a gesture, and our escorts turned down a side passage, clearly having finished their portion of the work.

"Helmet off!" The guard barked, receiving a scathing laugh from me.

"I won't let you pass, bucket head, unless you remove your helmet."

"I think you'd better do as he says." Tilusk said quietly, clearly unnerved by my lack of compliance.

I just smiled, and turned my gaze to the security holocam located above the door. Ejecting the blade from my right gauntlet, I allowed the tip of it to touch the guard's chin, while my left hand held his blaster firmly in its holster. "I think you're going to let me –"

_"Just let him in. I don't want to have to deal with replacing one of you for trying to be more stubborn than a Mandalorian. Not a second time." _

"Yes, my lord. Of course."

I chuckled and headed in, the Muun walking quietly at my heels.

"Your work is completed, bounty hunter, as anticipated and payment has been made. I understand that there were... Complications."

"Thank you, Prince Xizor. And yes, there were, but they weren't anything that a few _Mando'ade_ couldn't handle."

The sneer in the Falleen's voice was evident as he spoke. "As a proud warrior, as I assume creatures such as you would consider yourselves, how do you deal with cowardly creatures like this one, not that they don't have their uses, of course. It is a matter of curiosity, on my part, I imagine that I would find them sufficiently irritating and kill them just to remove the source."

"My team and I," I replied attempting to keep an even tone, "were paid by you, to escort him and cover the exchange process, along with bringing the merchandise back. It was a matter of honour that he be brought back alive, if it were possible. I'm a soldier, and if I'm given a job, I complete it. Personal gratification and work don't mix."

Xizor's voice softened, a dangerous lilt as cold as the blood that flowed through his reptilian veins. "Don't you find that your "code of honour" as a soldier gets in the way of actually getting the job done?" A cruel smile played at his lips as I cocked my helm to one side, knowing that he was one of the few who wouldn't be cowed by the lifeless stare of the T-slit visor.  
Mocking Xizor was a dangerous game for me to play, but then again, so was walking around on Coruscant, these days.

"I don't find that it does, _my lord._" My polite terminology was swamped in acid, but the gesture went unremarked upon and I continued. "Although a single minded belief in one's own infallibility would certainly penalise a person. Particularly when it regards, say, not realising that one of your business partners is stealing from you."

The harsh laughter that followed my statement was quelled instantly as one of my pistols was drawn from its holster, my grip upon it making it obvious that it would be used, should I need to.

Bringing my field of vision back fully inside my HUD, I focussed solely on the view it provided. Even set to infrared, it was cold, clinical, and precise.  
And perfectly attuned to my blaster's point of view, the crosshair of which was sitting squarely between the eyes of a trembling Ikor Tilusk.

"What is the meaning of this outrage?" The Prince demanded, still the image of unflappable nobility.

"My lord." The Muun was begging now and I was half tempted to shoot him for it, but I kept a lid on my anger and a finger millimetres from the pistol's trigger. "The Mandalorian knows not of what he speaks. I would never do anything to incur your wrath. Please!"

A sneer of my own crossed my face as the Falleen enquired as to how I knew this.

"I wouldn't have come to you without proof. I'm no fool."

Reaching into one of the larger pouches on my belt, I drew out a small datapad, which the Muun's eyes locked onto the moment it appeared, as what little colour remained in his face was drained, and the moment that I passed it to one of Xizor's guards, he used the moment to turn and run.

"Stop him!" The order was barked, and I pivoted, aimed and fired a pair of shots, the first striking the Muun in the back of the knee, the other hitting his thigh, as I berated internally myself for not taking into account the angle of his fall when I fired the second.

Moving swiftly, and fully aware of the armed and angry Black Sun guards shifting into positions behind me, I re-holstered my pistol, grabbing duraplast binders from my belt, kept there for situations like this one, and bound the Muun's wrists and ankles, forcing him to his knees to face the Falleen, who looked up from the datapad as I did so.

"The information you've shown me is compelling, and for the completed copy I shall pay you thirty percent of the total amount that was stolen." He stated, plainly ignoring Tilusk's anguished cries.

"Fifty percent."

An arched eyebrow met my response, as the prince demanded clarification. "And what exactly is wrong with a thirty percent margin, which is in effect a bonus for you, that I don't, in reality need to pay you?"

"To use your own logic, _my lord,_ fifty percent of an amount of credits that you were unaware of being stolen from you and would still be, if not for my actions, is _one hundred percent_ more profit than you would have had otherwise."

In the Force, I could feel his annoyance building, and I knew that I'd pushed my luck almost to breaking point. Almost.

"Had I chosen to be less than honest, withholding this information, my lord, I could have made him have had any one of a number of accidents and taken the credits. It's something I'm_extremely_ good at."

"Very well, bounty hunter. Fifty percent." Xizor spoke dismissively, as though bored of my presence. "You're a dangerous individual, and I can appreciate the usefulness of that in a creature. Black Sun may have uses for you in the future. Now go, while I still allow it."

I bowed my head, and made my way back through the doors I came through, checking my credit balance, and noting with satisfaction that the transaction had been put through. My helmet's audio pickup detected the words: "Take this slime to the interrogation chambers. We're going to have words, he and I."

Once back on the street, I called the ship and informed them of the successful conclusion of the mission, but gave no details about what happened or the extra sum of credits, which I converted to cash credits the moment I came across a bank. The payment itself was divided among the members of the team, with a little being left in what we referred to as the "Operational fund."

I took an air taxi to the Core Comestibles Warehouse, and met the ship there. Leaving the planet swiftly and shaking off the oppressive feeling that it left within me, I set course for Manda'yaim. Home.

Just before we jumped into hyperspace, I sent out a message, intended to get there ahead of us, simply saying: _"I've got something for the fund. I'd like to do my part. Oh, and we're coming home. It's been too long, _vode." _And tell Gotab that he still owes me that ale..."_


End file.
